


It's Oh So Quiet

by AlephandMutt (orphan_account)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Asexual friendly, Canon Related, Cecil Is Not Described, Chocolate, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, M/M, Memory Alteration, POV Carlos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1609460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AlephandMutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How can Halloween be the least frightening time in Night Vale? Carlos can't believe the worst things he might have to contend with this night are a grumpy neighbor... ...or admitting to Cecil he's scared of horror movies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Oh So Quiet

 

 

**October 31st, 6:00 pm.**

> “In addition to a blood draw, physical exam and X-ray of treats, the greater Night Vale medical staff will also assist in removal and containment of hazardous substances like black licorice, ricin, and of course, raisins. I hope everyone will be on the safe side and take advantage of this helpful community service. Happy Halloween, and goodnight, Night Vale, goodnight.”

         Carlos turned off the radio with a grin and popped his trunk.  As he removed an ice chest, several grocery bags and a couple worn lawn chairs, he scanned the suburban street.  It occurred to him that right now, Desert Creek looked so quiet, so normal.  Even though it was still light out, neighbors had put their porch lights on, and fence railings, stoops and mailboxes were dotted with jack o’ lanterns. Here and there, parents with toddler age children swaddled in costumes were just starting to venture out.  By appearances, it could have been a young neighborhood in any town gearing up for trick or treaters.

         Except…  He glanced up at the house in front of him, then knelt to rummage in one of the grocery bags.  Finding a roll of yellow caution tape, he quickly roped off the picket fence at the sidewalk and wound several bands of it around the closed front gate. He knelt down to knot the tape over the gate latch.

         “You are NOT leaving that there!” An angry voice brayed from an upstairs window.

         “No ma’am.” Carlos forced a smile and waved up to the stout woman glaring at his work.

         “Ah, I see you’re already charming the locals.” A smooth voice from behind made Carlos jump, then grin and climb to his feet. Cecil smiled and pecked his cheek, then waved up to the irritated woman. “Evening Cynthia.  Are those new curlers? You’ve done a wonderful job with the lawn - that St. Augustine is really coming in.”

         She scowled, rolled her eyes and turned away, vanishing into the house.

         Cecil was unfazed. “It really is remarkable how well it’s taken to the soil, considering it doesn’t exist.  She must water religiously.”

         “I’ve explained this before,” Carlos shook his head, amused. “It’s just the house that doesn’t show up on readings.  It’s nonexistent, but the yard and fence are fine.”

         “Right. Right…” Cecil murmured arranging the lawn chairs in front of the gate. “Then I wonder how she does water?  I mean, is she pulling city water into a nonexistent home and then onto the lawn, or does she water an existing lawn with some sort of nonexistent water than comes with her nonexistent house?”  He frowned thoughtfully unpacking one of the grocery bags.

         “You’re welcome to ask her.”

         “Ug. No.” Cecil laughed. “Tonight I’m fine with just keeping the little ghosts and goblins away from her nonexistent front door.  Oh! What have we here?”

         He’d discovered a plastic cauldron and the sacks of candy Carlos had picked out.

         “Only the good stuff - peanut butter cups, M&Ms - anything chocolate…” Carlos pushed a plastic cup into the jack o’ lantern he’d just lit. “And I brought drinks in the cooler and a couple blankets if it gets cold. Here, look at this.”

         Cecil watched as he fished some tongs out of his lab coat and pinched a small white block out the ice chest and added it to the pumpkin.  Drifts of white mist began to ooze out of its bright orange grin. “Lovely…” Cecil beamed.

         The head reappeared in the window again, surveying the spread of their barricade setup. “Just so you know, I will be filing a complaint about this in the morning!”

         “Ms - uh - Cynthia?  I have a writ from City Counsel.” Carlos shouted back and produced a paper from his pocket and waved it.  “It’s just for tonight. Would you like a Zagnut?” 

         The woman glared at him doubtfully, her eyes darting from the document he held up to Cecil who was pouring candy into the cauldron.  “Got any Almond Joy?”

         “You bet.” 

 

**6:45 pm**

         “They are all so adorable. It’s a shame we didn’t have time to dress up.” Cecil looked wistfully at a group of what Carlos guessed were giant worms.

          “No furry pants?”

         “Hmm? Not that kind of dressed up— I meant  _costumes_ .” 

         It was starting to get dark, and between greeting and treating diminutive —and Carlos had to admit— unspeakable cute hooded figures, teeny tactical gear laden SSPOs, super heroes, animals, fairies and monsters, he and Cecil had been batting around ideas for the rest of their evening.  Cecil offered to order a pizza for dinner since Carlos took care of the stake out supplies, and ten o’clock was the neighborhood curfew, so after that, they would be free from guard duty.

         Cecil seemed fairly set on the idea that they should go home, curl up on the couch and watch scary movies together.  So set on it, that he did not bring up the ‘Run Past a Chained Librarian’ sprint downtown, the midnight chant at the bloodstone circle in Mission Grove Park, or even the charity haunted house Dark Owl Records and the NVSPCA had put together to raise money for the spider literacy program. No. Despite listing every Halloween event going on tonight during his program, Cecil was more interested in a Halloween themed evening in.  So much so, he’d researched a list of horror movies available to stream and began reciting them off the top of his head— which struck Carlos as very odd considering his boyfriend’s memory often skipped like a dull needle on scratched vinyl.

          “What do you think? Do any of those sound interesting?” Cecil was smiling watching a troupe of ballerinas spot the smoking pumpkin, point, and hurry towards them.

          “Ah, I’m not sure.  I don’t think I’ve heard of most of those…” Carlos faltered. 

          One of his cousins adored horror movies and Carlos cringed remembering how terrified and embarrassed he’d been trying to hide his misery on weekend sleep overs at her house. She was older and had an extensive collection; gruesome stuff like Coffin Joe and Last House on the Left. But all of them bothered Carlos, even the melodramatic ones like Even the Wind is Scared or Poison for the Fairies.

         As a kid, Willy Wonka and things like the shoe melting scene in Roger Rabbit made him feel sick and anxious, and later as a teen he could not for the life of him understand how Two Thousand Maniacs was supposed to be campy or funny.  He did so much field research, it sucked when flashes of those rednecks came back to him every time he entered a small town.

         While adulthood had given him some perspective and thicker skin, (“It’s only a movie, it’s only a movie,” was his mantra.) he still didn’t find the idea of settling down to a marathon of who knows what on Halloween remotely appealing - and if his boyfriend enthused over something super disturbing the way he did a Lee Marvin picture, how would he feel about that?

         So when Cecil began rattling off film names, Carlos took a deep breath and forced a smile. He listened desperately for something pre-60’s, like the Universal monster movies, but no luck.  He had only a vague idea of what Night of the Lepus might be about, but he honestly preferred not to find out. 

         “I don’t know about scary movies tonight.” He began when the ballerinas were gone.

          “Oh?”

          “I was sort of interested in the haunted house. You know—“

          Cecil’s phone cut him off, chiming an incoming text and doing a rattling dance on the plastic lid of the ice chest. Carlos caught it before it slid to the concrete.

          “I’m sorry Carlos.  It might be Janice.” Cecil raised his eyebrows askance.

          Carlos smiled and handed him the cell.

         He really was curious about the haunted house though. Considering who was coordinating it, he wondered if Buddy Holly might be there, or Ritchie Valens?  He glanced at Cecil who was intently scanning the text, the phone shaking and chiming more as new msgs arrived.  If it was Janice, she was wound up.

          Cecil finally looked up at him, with a scowl he’d seen before. “Steve didn’t show up to take her to meet her friends - her Girl Scout troupe was going trick or treating together.  She thinks they left without her because she’s late.”

          “Where were they meeting?

         “Coyote Corners area.”  More text chimes rattled the phone. “Oh jeez.” Cecil gave up trying to navigate the barrage of texts and just called his niece. “Janice? Oh, no.  It’s okay sweetheart…”

         Carlos handed him his keys. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

         Cecil leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Janice, I’m on my way over. Call Maya’s mom and see if they’ve really left or what street they’re on.  I’ll be right there.”

 

**7:30 pm**

         It was dark now and the dry desert air had started to cool off, promising to be a chilly fall night. The youngest kids had vanished along with the light and the next wave of older children were beginning to appear. The Prius returned and Cecil climbed out, looking sour the way he always did when he had to deal with any fallout of Steve’s .

         “May I have your lab coat?”

         Carlos shucked it and helped Cecil put it on. “Are you cold?”

          “No. But I have a costume now. I’m a mad scientist.” Cecil huffed, then took a deep breath. “Sorry. Thank you for letting me run her over there. She might need a ride home later.” Cecil gave him an apologetic look.

          “It’s fine.” Carlos smiled. “Hey, watch this.” He fished a single M&M out of the bag he’d been eating and leaned over the fence towards the house.  He whipped it expertly into the open window - a pinpoint of light flashed - and it shot out the mailbox at the curb, plinking off the helmet of a kid in a space suit across the street.

          “Hey!” The kid shouted.  Carlos mimed a shrug and tossed him a Milky Way.

         “Neat.” Cecil grinned and held out his hand. “Let me try.”

          Carlos shook a few M&Ms into his waiting palm.  Like a baseball pitcher, Cecil straightened up and looked over each shoulder, checking the street was clear.  He wound up and zipped one tiny chocolate, bullseye, through the window. There was a yelp and a curse.

          Cynthia’s head thrust out the window, scanning the yard right as Carlos tackled Cecil and pulled him down out of sight behind the picket fence, snickering and hugging him.  “Busted.” He smirked.

         “But it didn’t…” Cecil whispered, confused.

         “I know, I know. Shhh.”

          “If you guys are gonna lurk all night,” Cynthia hollered over them, broadcasting to the street, the block. “You can at least stop the hoodlums throwing stuff at my house!  I had better not find TP in the morning!”

         Cecil twisted around to face him. “Carlos?” He whispered, his eyes searching, earnest.

          “Yeah?”

         “You packed so well.  Please tell me you brought toilet paper.”

         “Uh, no.”

         “Eggs?”

         “I’m afraid not.”

         “Grenade?”

          “Sorry. Nada.”

         “Rats.”

 

**7:45 pm**

         “Cecil?”

          “Hm?”

         “You know what they say about green M&M’s?”

         “Oh? That they improve telekinesis and encourage soul merging with your pets?  Hey, maybe that would help with your cat allergies— Ow!  Don’t throw those at me!”

 

**8:00 pm**

          Past the random street chatter and the occasional sigh of a car passing on Route 800, Carlos could hear a coyote yipping in the distance.

         “It’s too quiet.  Trick or treaters aside, really.  How is it this quiet?” Carlos waved open palmed to the street.  As he’d noticed before, and had been thinking all evening, it could have been any suburban street in any city.  Other than the children’s selection of costumes, and an obvious non-ban on wearing prop or real weapons, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

         Cecil blinked at him. “The children are too quiet?”

         “No.  Everything.  How is it on any other night or day there’s screaming, chanting, weird lights, wild dogs or dinosaurs or mysterious earthquakes and sand storms, but on Halloween night, Halloween aka ‘Mischief Night’ it’s all peace and domestic tranquility?”  He hopped up and went to the car, returning with his leather satchel from the lab.  Rummaging, he produced a graph paper notebook, flipped it open and held a chart under Cecil’s nose. “There.” He stabbed a line with his finger. “That’s an average month tabulated day by day showing the Night Vale mortality rate compared to a similar size US city.” He flipped a few pages. “And here’s weather and natural disaster occurrences, unresolved police investigations. Missing persons. Unexplained phenomena…”

         “Wow.” Cecil smiled, a fond look in his eyes as he studied the graph in the dim light. “You’re very thorough.”

         “Thorough?” Carlos choked out a laugh. “That’s your take-away?”

         “Well, it is nice to see how exceptional we are spelled out empirically. I’d love to blow one of these up for the studio office.” 

          Carlos put his face in his hands and stuffed the notebook back in his satchel. “I give up.”

         “Oh, don’t be like that.  You were asking about Halloween and there’s a very simple explanation.  It’s off limits.”

          “Off limits?” Carlos echoed.

         “Uh huh.” Cecil nodded. “Nothing is allowed to be scheduled.  No street cleaning, no testing, no drills, no rendition or interrogations…  Since the beginning of the city— all the way back to the founders in their soft meat crowns, it was declared that All Souls was to be just a quiet celebration.  I suppose they thought with the veil being thin and with the ghosts of the dead walking among us, we had enough to deal with.”

         Carlos dropped back in his lawn chair and blinked a couple times. “Of course.” He mumbled. “Makes perfect sense…”

         “Trick or treat!” A pirate, a hooded figure and a rubber-masked werewolf chorused.

          Cecil beamed at them and held out the cauldron. “It’s getting late. Better grab a big handful.” When the kids were gone, he looked at Carlos.  “Are you okay?”

         “I’m not sure what to do with that information.”

         Cecil rolled his eyes. “Duh. You _enjoy_ it.”

 

**8:30 pm.**

          In a lull between gaggles of kids, Carlos stretched and gave Cecil the side eye. His boyfriend pretended to be absorbed in cherry picking Almond Joys and peanut butter cups from the cauldron, but Carlos could see the corner of his mouth tighten, trying not to smile.

          He gripped the arms of his lawn chair and hopped it a few inches closer to Cecil, who still pretended not to notice, but snickered into the candy bowl. 

         He did it again but this time the chair folded up behind him and dropped him to the sidewalk on his ass. “Oof.”

         Cecil jumped up to help him, trying not to laugh.

         “That’s the appeal, isn’t it? I’m suave.”

         “Among other things.”

         They reset the chairs against each other and settled back, Cecil taking Carlos’s hand and bringing it close to hold and inspect.

          “What’s this?” His fingers circled a dark puckered area on the outer edge of Carlos’s little finger and running down the side of his hand almost to his wrist.

         “Close encounter with a heated flask.  Didn’t I tell you I’m suave?”

         “You mentioned it.” Cecil kissed the burn and began massaging his palm and wrist.

 

**9:15 pm**

         “I don’t think the pizza is coming.” Cecil glanced at his watch then at his phone. “We called about 8 o’clock.” The phone chimed with a new text.  “Janice says she has about twenty pounds of candy. Oh look, she sent a photo.”

         Carlos could see a group of rotting zombie Girl Scouts holding aloft weighty pillow cases.  The little one in the front with a subversive radio host badge clutched a powder pink one that sagged like it held two dead cats.  Carlos smiled. “She’s a pro.”

         “I know, right?  I’m calling Rico’s.”

         Carlos greeted a group of twelve year olds who kept peering over the gate to the house curiously. Even when Cynthia shut off the porch light a few minutes earlier, it still didn’t look any more sinister, or even any different than the other houses on the street.  It must be the forbidden fruit syndrome; it had to be special or dangerous if it required sentries to guard it.

         The kids left as Cecil was getting off the phone. “There’s good news and bad news.  Bad news is, they are swamped on delivery.  The good news is, it’s ready if we can pick it up.”

 

**9:45 pm**

         The warm smell of the pizza sitting on the passenger seat was so inviting, Carlos didn’t even worry about whatever weird rice or bean flour concoction made up the crust. He gripped the wheel to stop his hand from creeping over to sneak a slice before he got back to Cecil, who had to be hungry by now too.

         But when he parked at the curb just past their camp, Cecil didn’t look up. He had one of Carlos’s notebooks open, he guessed still enraptured with his city event records.

         Only when he got closer did he sense something was amiss.  It wasn’t one of the graph paper journals, but a commonplace book he’d started for field notes when he first came to town — one he had given over and devoted to just one subject. Cecil’s eyes were whipping rapidly over the writing, many pages deep into it, and they were confused.

         “Carlos?” He said looking up. “I wanted to look at those charts again, but I… I must have…  Is this what I am to you?  An anomaly to be studied? A science project?”

         The book Cecil held contained all of Carlos’s notes on everyone that he met in the first few weeks of being in town, but then more to the point, it held dates and transcribed notes of Cecil’s broadcasts as well as their private conversations detailing every incident where Cecil was forgetful. Where he lost time. Where he repeated something that had been taught him when the holes in time and memory didn’t make sense with the present. And it held Carlos’s thoughts and impressions of these events as he tried to form a hypothesis as to the cause.

 

**10:00 pm**

         “I’m not one of your experiments!”

         “Cecil, you’ll describe one of these experiences, and in the moments afterward, if you see the gap or notice the discrepancy, you just laugh or shrug it off—“

         “Maybe because I have a positive attitude—”

         “Or a post hypnotic suggestion telling you not to think about it. ‘If you see something, say nothing’? It’s not a motto, it’s brainwashing! You can’t be that naive!”

         “Carlos!” Cecil burst, shaking.  The moment after he shouted, he got quiet, wide eyes searching the scientist’s face before looking down and away.

         Carlos lowered his voice. “Cecil, please listen.” He said gently. “I’m worried. I want to help.  Maybe I did start taking the notes before we got together—before I knew you—but I’ve always had the welfare of the town in mind, including you.  It’s not an idle experiment.  And to work this out, I have to be in possession of as much information as I can.  It’s not a rifle, or an SPCA flame thrower, but data collection is a powerful weapon for a scientist. Cecil, please.” He tentatively reached forward and took Cecil’s hand and held it between his, feeling it tremble. “I don’t ever want you to be manipulated or stuck like Fey, and I want you to be able to remember whatever you want to remember. And what’s going on, it’s not just you.  I heard it - on one of your archived tapes - they’ve done it to me too. Whatever this is could be manipulating the whole town.”

         Cecil stared down at his hand in Carlos’ and his chest rose and fell heavily as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I know.” He breathed at last, barely audible. “I let it make sense to me, because it was easier, but the gaps are there, all along the edges, telling me something’s wrong, something doesn’t add up…” 

         He put his other hand in Carlos’. “You’re right to try to record it, track it. I’m scared the secret police would see your notebooks, but…” Cecil broke off, head down, biting his bottom lip.

         Carlos drew him closer, pulling him to his chest and Cecil crumpled against him gratefully, arms looping around him tightly, and he hid his face against Carlos’ neck and shoulder.  Carlos held him, squeezing him in, one arm pressed up his back and neck, his hand cupping the back of his head as though to both cradle and shield him from the empty street, the quiet black starry sky.  The soft tremor that went through Cecil - something that might have been a sigh or a sob - brought a lump to Carlos’ throat, and he squeezed tighter, wondering if this was what it felt like to have your heart broken by something that wasn’t ultimately selfish, like a squashed crush or petty rejection. It felt infinitely more helpless.  But he kept his grip firm and steady, feeling how gradually his boyfriend’s form relaxed a little with each breath.  “Shhh. I’ve got you…” He murmured, one hand gently kneading Cecil’s shoulder as he squeezed.

         Both of them flinched when the phone chimed, and Carlos let Cecil untangle himself to check it. He picked it up off the lawn chair, quickly wiping his face and forcing a little laugh.  “Good thing she texted,” he sniffed. “What a mess.”

         Carlos smiled. “She ready for a ride home?  I think we’re safe to break camp here.”

         “Oh.” Cecil squinted at the phone and began texting back. “I don’t believe it.” He hit send and looked at Carlos. “Steve’s actually picking her up. I told her to let me know if he doesn’t show and when she gets home —but he called her.”

         “So… It’s just us for the night?”

         “Uh huh.”

         “Great. “ He began gathering the tape off the fence. “Does this mean scary movies?” He tried to look cheerful instead of worried.

         Cecil folded the lawn chairs. “I’m not sure I’m still in that sort of mood…  Is that okay?”

         “Sure.” Carlos said maybe a little too quickly. “Think about what sounds good,” he added carrying the ball of tape and the spent pumpkin to Cynthia’s trashcan.

         Gathering the last of the candy and remaining items into the grocery totes, Cecil glanced up at the sky partially obscured by suburban street lights.  “What if we picked up some hot drinks and took the blankets out to the waterfront area — just laid on the boardwalk and watched the stars?”

         Carlos’s eyes lit up. “I have a small telescope at the lab…”

         “Perfect. Hopefully the moon won’t show up before we get there and ruin it.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Um, this is the first time I've done this - please be kind. :) Mostly I just wanted an opportunity to play with dialogue and try to write Cecil's voice in conversation. I used canon material up to 'Cookies', but I'm not sure where/how this might fit, because time is weird, right? On the scary movie front, Night of the Lepus is a good clue that Cecil likes the ridiculous, not torture porn stuff -- in case you were worried about that. ...I know I was... And it's also my firm belief that the NVSPCA have flame throwers as standard issue due to the inordinately large arachnid population. Personally, I love spiders and really think their animal control officers need to grow a little back bone.


End file.
